


Part by Part

by DevilDoll



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_flashfic, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-08
Updated: 2008-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilDoll/pseuds/DevilDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How did we start doing this, anyway?" Written for the sga_flashfic "Not Dead Yet" challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part by Part

"Shoulders," John said, and squinted up at the sky. His arm was scraped raw all down one side, but it didn't seem to be bothering him.

"Ears," Rodney said, pleased by the shoulders mention. When John turned to glare at him, he rushed to add, "I'm not making fun! They're nice. Odd and--" the glare deepened "--unique! I meant unique! They're unique and…nice. Very, very nice."

John huffed and shifted his pack. One of the clips was broken, so it was tied with a piece of bandage on one side. "Let's go," he said, and Rodney sighed and started up the slope. Rocks, rocks, and more rocks. If he stubbed his toe one more time…

"Thumbs," John said, after a minute or two of climbing.

"Really? Thumbs?"

"Yes. It's not weird," John said, grabbing a dead tree branch, testing it to make sure it would take his weight before he used it to pull himself up. He sounded sure of himself, but his nice, unique ears were turning pink at the pointy tips.

Rodney scrambled up after him, waiting until he found a secure foothold before taking his turn. "That birthmark on your--"

"We said nothing at waist level!" John protested.

"It's a little below--"

" _Rodney_." His boot dislodged a small avalanche that pattered down the hill, peppering Rodney with rocks and sand.

"Okay, _fine_ ," Rodney choked out, once he was done coughing. "The back of your neck."

"I already knew that one," John said, smirking down at him, and it was Rodney's turn to blush.

It was a small pleasure on this hellhole of a planet, with half their team God-knew-where, and little water, and no food but what they had in their pockets or could kill with their hands. The days were filled with climbing, trudging, and barely suppressed panic, but at night he curled behind John, pressing his face to the back of his neck as they dozed in a cocoon of spare clothes and emergency blankets.

"Left knee," John said, a long enough time later that Rodney thought they weren't doing it anymore.

"Just the left one?"

"I'm saving the right one for later."

"How did we start doing this, anyway?" Rodney asked. He paused to give his burning leg muscles a break, very resolutely not looking down.

He'd lost count of how many hills they'd fought their way over in the last two days, but he'd yet to lose the overwhelming fear that he was going to slip and go rolling back down, landing in a bloody heap of broken bones and puncture wounds.

"I don't remember."

"How long until we stop? Walking, I mean, not the game." Not that what they'd been doing could be considered walking in the common sense. It was more like every gym class nightmare Rodney had ever had come to life.

John squinted up at the sky again. "Another hour, maybe. Once we get down the other side, we'll start looking for a place to make camp."

Rodney thought "camp" was a rather generous term for a pitiful fire and no shelter, but they'd learned the hard way all that the caves and overhangs were already taken by aggressive and possibly poisonous animals.

His thoughts must have showed on his face, because John tugged on his vest until he started moving again. "C'mon. I'll skin you a yummy lizard for dinner," he promised.

"Oh, well, who can resist that?"

* * *

"Your turn," John grunted, heaving himself up over another huge outcropping of stone. He flopped over on his belly and held a hand down.

"Is it?" Rodney couldn't remember. The sun was so hot--it was hard to think. He grabbed John's hand and let himself be half-dragged onto the rock.

"Yep." John carefully shifted over to sit, legs dangling over the edge, and pulled out the canteen. It was Rodney's; John's had been smashed almost flat.

Rodney slid backward on his butt to lean against the rocks, because letting his feet hang over the ledge made him want to throw up.

"So go," John said, before taking a small swallow.

The line of John's throat, the bob of his Adam's apple, drew Rodney's attention, but he'd already used throat, he was pretty sure. "Uh…what's that thing…"

"That thing? You don't even know what it's called?"

"The thing that hangs down between your tonsils in the back of your throat?" He accepted the canteen gratefully, limiting himself to one sip, even though he was desperately thirsty.

"The uvula?"

"Yes! Uvula."

"Okay, _that_ is weird."

"I'm trying to be creative," Rodney said, examining his finger. He'd peeled one of his fingernails back a few hills ago, and it was bleeding again.

"You're mostly being gross."

"You know what's gross? This is gross." Rodney poked his finger toward John's face. "Wow me with your next choice, then."

"Thighs," John said as he pushed Rodney's hand away, grimacing.

"I already said thighs."

"Yeah, but _I_ didn't say thighs. We can't do duplicates? We have all the exact same parts. Gonna be kinda hard."

"Well," Rodney said, "not _exactly_ the same parts."

"Waist level!"

"I'm just pointing out."

* * *

  
The last few feet were practically vertical, and the game stopped while they struggled to the top.

The thing was, Rodney always got his hopes up as they approached the top of a hill, every time. As they inched higher, he'd start to think maybe this was it. Maybe they'd look down the other side and see...anything. Ronon and Teyla, the jumper, a huge city full of friendly people and modern conveniences. Anything but what they always saw, which was more dry, barren nothing.

It was the same this time. Rolling hills that went on and on like a dead ocean, with no evidence at all that anyone lived here. Why the Wraith had been here at all was still a mystery. It was hardly a buffet for them.

John didn't say anything--he barely looked, really--just walked a few feet each way, gauging the best possible route down, and over the edge he went.

Rodney hated going down as much as he hated going up. It was much faster, but about a million times more terrifying. They skittered down the other side in a shower of dust and rocks, grabbing onto scraggly weeds and bushes to keep from tumbling end over end.

"Wait, I've got a rock in my shoe," Rodney said, when he finally reached the bottom, panting and light-headed, throat tight with fear.

"Princess and the pea," John said, but the teasing was half-hearted at best, and when Rodney sat down on a rock to unlace his boot, he felt John's hand on the top of his head, scratching idly through his dirty hair.

Rodney hadn't mentioned John's hair in the Parts I Like Best About You game, because he didn't want to give John the satisfaction. Everyone probably thought Rodney was jealous, but he didn't suffer from hair envy. And good thing, too, with the team he was on. Ronon and Teyla --

Well. Ronon and Teyla were. Somewhere.

He looked up at John, who was staring off in the distance, at the sinking sun and the endless nothing around them.

"Do you think they--"

"Eyelashes," John said quickly, looking down at Rodney's upturned face. He palmed Rodney's cheek, then gently brushed his thumb across his lower lashes. "Nose," he said, touching the tip.

John looked dirty, exhausted, and scared. Rodney figured he probably looked the same. "That was two," he said.

John's mouth twitched at the corner, and Rodney thought, _Mouth._

 _Mouth. Hands. Heart. All of it. All of you. We're probably going to die here, and there's no one I'd rather take my last breath with._

"You can take two next time." John adjusted his pack again as Rodney tied his boot. "Ready?"

"I suppose," Rodney sighed. He got his feet moving again, falling into step beside John, and said, "Hair."

 **End**

**Author's Note:**

> I went with "Choose not to use archive warnings" because no one is explicitly dead yet.


End file.
